The silence in Yasin Valley is a heavy shroud, broken only by the distant groan of the shifting glacier. The soaring cliffs, once animated by the cries of lammergeiers and chukars, now stand mute. The apricot orchards are still; no song thrush sings from their branches, no bee hums amongst the blossoms.
Strange, lonely survivors a solitary Himalayan snowcock on a ridge seem to search for traces of their vanished companions.
We have killed life.
The earth no longer teems with the furious industry of ants; the wildflower meadows are empty of the vibrant dance of butterflies. Wherever one looks, from the riverbank to the high pasture, life seems to have fled, and no one seems to know where it now hides.
The grasses appear sad, uninhabited, no longer tormenting women’s calves with buzzing insects as they walk the paths to the fields.
The wild is no more. The insignificant yet so precious, buzzing life of small, flitting creatures has vanished.
All that remains is livestock. Children are taken by noisy jeeps to see yaks and goats, just as they were once brought to gaze upon the majestic markhor or the elusive snow leopard now confined to stories.
Photography of Karim shah Nizari
Poetry speaks of a world of distracted wanderers, saved from their own awareness by life the astonishing and deceptively invincible life of yesteryear.
We can now only sing of a world we have killed, one that will never return.
One day, the first chemical runoff washed into the river from new terraces, the first concrete pier was laid in the meadow, and the requiem was pronounced. A scientific requiem, an arithmetical requiem, a developer’s requiem, written in blueprints the scriptures of the new era.
A world that might still live through screens and satellite images, but one we will no longer touch or smell. A world that now belongs to legend, with creatures no less mythical than the dragons said to sleep beneath the mountains.
And the developer exclaims, with an enthusiastic grimace, his sacred blueprint in hand: “Look at the progress.”
The most vivid aspect of the present crisis of culture in Gilgit-Baltistan is that the classics the oral epics, the indigenous languages, the architectural styles, the codes of ethics are now being eroded not by cannonfire, but by the slow drip of indifference, by the artificially elevated priorities of a modern consumer class who consider themselves to be the elites. But the art born of a people’s genuine struggle is completely different from the art that is manufactured for a festival sponsored by a NGO. The first is a product of the soul, a necessity, while the latter is often a performance born of a transactional spirit. It is for this reason that they are genuinely different.
True culture is the fruit of blood and tears, a revolutionary flame that purifies and gives meaning to life. The true artists are the elders who remember the stories, the women who compose songs while working the fields, the craftsman who carves wood not for a tourist, but for God. Their actions emanate from a spirit of sacrifice and love. Academic or NGO driven “cultural projects,” however, can often become a defense of legalism and report writing. For these progressives, it is not always a question of taste or deep knowledge, but of packaging and branding.
Eradicating Social Media Fueled Gangsterism in Gilgit Baltistan
The rise of social media has brought a dark side to Gilgit Baltistan. Platforms like TikTok and Facebook, while connective, are being exploited by small gangs seeking notoriety. These groups engage in dangerous competitions for views and likes, perpetrating new and serious crimes that are destroying our social fabric.
Their fake fame is a trap for our youth, leading to horrifying consequences: blackmail, loss of life, and even suicide. This is a disease that threatens the very peace and safety of our region.
The need of the hour is decisive action. We urge the Gilgit Baltistan Police to launch an immediate crackdown on these emerging gangsters. They must be dismantled at their initial stages. We call for strict measures to eliminate this root cause of crime, protect our vulnerable youth, and preserve the peace and harmony of our society. The time to act is now
Eagle keepers in Mongolia. Kazakhs at the West part of Mongolia. #Mongolia #kazakh
Gilgit-Baltistan is facing a new wave of climate disasters; cloudbursts, thawing permafrost, and deadly debris-dammed lakes are reshaping its fragile mountains. Old pr… See more
Beyond Glacial Melt
pamirtimes.net
Beyond Glacial Melt
Gilgit-Baltistan, often termed the “Third Pole” due to its extensive glacial reservoirs, is experiencing a climate crisis that is rapidly evolving in both scale and complexity. While glacial lake outburst floods (GLOFs) and major landslides, such as those at Attabad and Shisper Glacier, have histori
High in the roof of the world, a flute sings at Bam e Dunya. The mountains cradle the melody, and the vast valleys become its instrument, refining each note through ancient echoes and a mystical noise cancellation. The farther the sound travels, the more pure it becomes a soulful strain woven from thin air and towering silence.
For the people who dwell here with their herds, this is not merely music heard by the ear, but a call felt by the soul. It is the voice of the mountains themselves, a spiritual thread connecting land, life, and the infinite sky.
The EPA and Forest Department of Gilgit-Baltistan are engaged in a shameful blame game over tree cutting, each denying responsibility. This public confusion exposes their utter incompetence and a profound ignorance of their own mandated roles. How can such inefficient, uneducated departments be trusted to protect our environment? They appear to be nothing more than dead institutions, collecting salaries while our forests vanish. This failure is a massive question mark on their very existence.